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by Tigeress on Tue Sep 20, 2011 10:47 am
The sun glistened in its beautiful orange splendor, signaling the rise of a new dawn for the city-state of Virnora, its light revealing powerful castle ramparts that towered over its citizens as if some monument that stood protectively above them, both divine and physical.
Its large windows a thousands stained glass eyes that observed the small metropolis, watching her citizens arise tiredly, and wiping weariness from their features. They were a diverse people of many skins, but many had tribal markings, stripes that showed their devotion to their emasculate “Queens”. They moved about through festive looking streets, walking around scantily clad (and many times not clad at all) a sharp contrast to the dull shine of liquor that seemed to be bottled everywhere, as if it decided it was going to have some form of decency.
She sang too, the songs of merchants hawking their wares, as it formed a odd melody of forceful chatter that intermixed in harmony with the sound of giggling exotic prostitutes, who went about their way applying their trade quite openly, and seemingly always accompanied by a drunken lullaby of the intoxicated. Gold clinking constantly seemed to be the joyous light percussion and the intense screams of brawlers as they attacked each other in violent flurries, over who knows what nonsense. It was Truly a stupendous combination of sound that formed the voice of Virnora.
If one was to approach her, they would discover her scent, the smell of cheap perfumes, spicy heavily spiced drinks that did little to conceal its powerful taint, and the sweat… that musty love maker’s sweat that seemed to be in everything, and opening your mouth could possibly mean you risk tasting someone. Merely breathing was at times difficult for the abundance of long pipes seemed to be never ending…
All this delighted the “Queen” as she rested peacefully in her aged throne of polished cherry wood, the light drifting over her naked lithe body, revealing a very large bottle of cinnamon colored drink, which she straddled lovingly ever so slightly between her heavily marked legs, blackened by hundreds of gentle stripes.
Her head moved slightly in her slumber, and long braids of dark red hair drifted along the top of the bottle, as if they were wild snakes lusting for a drink, but hovered above the entrance, possibly held up by numerous black feathers braided into the red mass. They seemed to flap slightly with every peaceful inhale as her ample chest caused them to pull forward slightly in rhythmic patterns.
The lightly tanned face was sharp, beastlike in its design, and one would be loath to near it, but would definitely admire it from a safe distance, in case the exotic creature suddenly lounged for your exposed throat.
The creatures long eye lashes fluttered , like a butterfly readying for a peaceful flight, before drifting open with a uninterested expression, as if everything suddenly bored her. Despite this, her amber eyes gleamed, glowing dangerously as the sun’s caress reflected off those orbs, utterly mirror-like and flawless.
The goddess of Virnora had awoken…
The "Queen" shifted her beastlike face ever so slightly, head cocked in a curious manner reminiscent of a whimsical housecat, the expression captivating a mildly amused nature as the gleaming amber eyes locked onto a singular figure camouflaged most elegantly into marble stone of the throne room, a trait of the “Dou’far”, and most particularly, of her loyal friend.
“Shev.” The “Queen” called as if someone would call their loving pet from outside, her tone filled with bemusement that often follows, and a smile begun to radiant, beautiful despite several well earned scars that caused that divine face to be flawed. “Shev, you can come to me now.”
Yet the creature remained still, and had anyone else drifted into the majestic throne room, they would have merely noted the amazingly life-like statue spread out in true feline manner that befit the decorations of the grand castle, its slender body seemingly flowing with the floor. Like true art, the creature both stood out and blended in perfectly, a truly dangerous combination of beauty and invisibility.
The “Queen” lifted herself from the massive throne, raising the reddish colored drink to her lips and draining what little remained, her face showing a kind of intense pleasure as the disturbed contents sloshed around, unleashing its heavily spiced scent into the room, where it rested upon her breath.
Her steps were soft and padded, despite how she towered over the tiny creature, a impressive height of a tall adult, and nearly half again. Her shadow seemed to cover the creature completely, but still it did not stir, and the “Queen” smiled her usual bored nature, before touching it with one abnormally long hand, stroking it gently.
She was greeted with a loud, booming purr as the statue suddenly seemed to have life granted by this single godly motion, rubbing itself against her touch as the hand brushed against feminine now grey hair. “Found me!” it giggled with delight, the voice a meowing sound as the creature pushed closer, “Again again!” it shouted playfully, dashing over towards the large throne, where it took a seat, its body changing color to blend almost perfectly into its wood.
That same amused smile was all that greeted the tiny creature as the “Queen” shook her head, hair dancing around slightly and several blackened feathers flickering ever so slightly, “We have much to do.” And she begun to walk away as the small creature slinked behind her, almost with a hurt expression, but said nothing as the Queen begun to dress herself in clothes that seemed to have been unceremoniously discarded the day before. Elegant and functional leather robes of red that were the traditional manifest of her position. They clothes of Manticore nobility, and as she donned them, attaching dozens of belts that formed the oddly tight fitting center of her body, that bemused smile never left her lips. “197 to 365, I’ll never catch up.”
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